#but general prompts are fine

[toxinspired]

someone send me writing prompts to do at work

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[plasmodiumpyrexia]

Some responses to "I'm fine":

"Bullshit."

"Then how do you explain that?"

"Uh huh. Sure you are buddy."

"You know, it's ok if you're not ok."

"There is no way you're 'fine' after that."

[skeptical silence]

[worried silence]

"[name], it's ok..."

"We talked about this."

"Please don't lie to me."

"You call that 'fine'?"

"Then why are you [action that reveals distress]?"

"You don't look/sound fine."

"Something's bothering you; I can tell."

"You can talk to me... "

"You're not fooling anyone."

"I just want to help. Will you let me?"

"No you're not."

"You're shaking..."

[pistachi0art]

Return of Gordon’s Monster Mash for October. Send in a monster or prompt of sorts and I’ll draw pretty orange man. Everyone wins!!

[ahollowgrave]

11. Blood at the corner of your mouth.

It is not your blood at the edge of your mouth. Not your blood that your tongue swipes from the corner of your lips.  Not your blood whose coppery tastes lingers between your teeth. 

But he fucking deserved it.

Sister Kindness has you tucked under her arm as she, to use her words, books it. Something she must not do often because she huffs and puffs her way through the crowded Shaded Bower. And though some call out ‘Sister’ to her with warm recognition she does not stop ‘booking’ it. (Sister Kindness would have you know that she is perfectly in shape for a woman of her age. She was ‘huffing and puffing’ from the extra weight of carrying you, thank you very much.)

She slows when the westshore pier appears around the corner and then she steps off the main path and sets you down. Kneeling to be something more like eye-level, she pulls a Roegadyn-sized handkerchief from the depths of her habit. Wetting a corner with a flask pulled from a separate, equally confusing pocket she begins to clean the blood from your face.

Sister Kindness’ hand is firm where it grips your chin, holding as little of you as possible. For once the contact does not send you recoiling. Perhaps it is the way your rage has left you as quickly as it had flooded you, leaving you feeling drained of everything else as well. Now that the moment has passed you tremble and, to your horror, you can feel a well of tears rising to fill that empty space.

“Was a helluva bite, darling girl,” Sister Kindness’s voice is quiet as she tilts your head to the light, searching for any blood she may have missed. You focus on her creek colored eyes and swear you feel their waters lapping at your ankles. Her smile is sudden but woozy around the edges; she is just as shaken. "Reckon he'll have a scar, too. Bet he lies about who gave it to him." ‘He’ was an elezen man -- maybe a merchant but likely not, as Sister Kindness did not know him -- with a face as sharp as his ears and a smile that spoke of too much confidence. And you had hated him on sight. His crime was making Sister Kindness uncomfortable and his mistake was not being aware of his surroundings. 

It does not take much pressure to break skin. 

Pleased with her work, Sister Kindness rises and disappears the handkerchief away. Handing you the flask, she instructs you to take a sip, swirl it around your mouth, and spit it out. There is some confusion about what 'swirl' means but, eventually, she is satisfied with this too. “Well, we didn’t get what I came for but we’ll be headed home all the same. Come now, before the ferry leaves without us. We will, ah, not be telling the abbess about this.” You don’t know if she means the bite or the trip to the city. 

You don’t ask.

Thank you for the ask, Anon! ][ Sensory Prompts ][

[theartoftheprompt]

I know it's annoying to post so much stuff about climate change and environmental issues, but IT'S FUCKING IMPORTANT.

[hersurvival]

I gave my all -

To absorb the blows,

To inherit the worst of it,

To protect them.

First born,

My only claim was the trauma.

And it came heavy.

Rather one fucked up kid

Than three.

My mother would agree.

@nosebleedclub May 23rd - Generational Trauma

[thegoodthegrandandtheugly]

[ivymarquis]

Am I losing my marbles or is there no official kinktober 2024 list?

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Not-tober Day 1: Heterocromia

Scribbled some Tiger Rock and did some colour testing for him!

Picked the prompt 'Heterochromia' from the Cringetober list. I was gonna just keep doodling him with one or two coloured ones but the colours are a pain so this'll do lmao

Did you know in the book he's described as white? White, white, white, white, white, white and white? With a gold medallion and gold bauble studs on his clothes? There's no colour on this guy at all whadda hell

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

Ngl I'd like to make like a small spin off Cookie run game once I get the free time and put Golden Butter's story

The toybox realm feels like it's fighting style would be more turn based strategy

ooooh, yeah i can see the toy box having that kind of fighting style.

also if you do end up putting GBC's story in the game then make sure to credit me(mod kenzie)! My main blog is @kenziedrawz so you could put that in the game credits if you ever end up making it because I did, y'know, make Goldie and her story

But also I wish you luck and that you get lots of free time soon!!

[hungergameshyperfixation]

I’ve seen AI images of Katniss and Peeta on Pinterest (like, painfully obvious ai) and all I have to say is that we truly need to re-embrace the art of shitty photoshopping. I’m begging. I cannot stand to see any more AI; I would literally rather see a million photo edits of Peeta and Katniss’s heads put over stock images, with a B&W filter over the image, and a white text caption in cursive font about love. I’d take 100 “cringy” imagines and personally frustrating fan theories over circulating AI image generated stuff.

At least those are all made by real people 💀

I guess you really don’t know what you have until it’s missing.

[elftwink]

saw a video about 2 player ttrpgs and one of them was like "this one's about a pretend marriage" and i was like oh? and i looked it up on itch (eyes on the prize, fyi) and it's 50% as of right now and i was like OH? and i bought it immediately & ive read most of it and i am a big fan. and i KNOW that i have friends who would have fun playing it (it's a 2 player or 4 player game; the 4 player variant has 2 fake couples) but asking them is going to be so cringe. yeah we're gonna make up people and pretend to be them and then pretend to pretend to get married and the characters when they start their pretending they're gonna be like "oh we don't have any romantic feelings towards each other this is strictly plot" but then (get this) they will start to develop real feelings for each other. and we're gonna act it out together and pretend to be them but don't worry! we have no romantic feelings towards one another. this is strictly plot. when WE (irl) pretend to be in love it's actually platonic, unlike the people who we are pretending to be to each other. so do you have like 2-5 hours you wanna dedicate to that next week

and the worst part is that's 100% what i want. like i have roleplayed romance before with friends it is literally not a big deal because the whole point of roleplay is that the character ISN'T you. but with a fake relationship the crushing weight of dramatic irony hovers behind me

[gomzdrawfr]

announcement

im dropping inktober

end of announcement

[vacantvisage]

hhhhh thinking about zevwyll

the older/younger dynamic has always been a favorite of mine, the eromenos and erastus, the dorian and lord henry, the hadrian and antinous. so it obviously permeates my ships.

i also LOVE fairytale dyamics. yuta being partially a self insert but also an obvious rapunzel/cinderella archetype with a knight in shining armor (a city guard in banged up leathers).

With Wyll, I love the dynamic of a folk hero falling in love with the (mythologized) courageous leader of the people he helped save, the parallels between them as exiles from their own home for their proximity to devils. Perhaps even finding solace between one another, where they're both so used to putting themselves aside for the sake of others, finally able to unburden themselves without fear of burdening others.

I especially love that Wyll is essentially a Prince of Baldur's Gate. I realllly love Royal x Knight type of dynamics, ESPECIALLY Prince x Older Knight. The devotion involved with something like that along with the stubbornness and haughtiness of youth compared to the calmer experiences of the mature. The idea of Zevlor being a retired soldier at his side. the potential redemption for both of them!!

Wyll being flashy and dressed to the nines in noble garb when he has to Make Appearances, Zevlor dressed nicely but somewhat more modestly.

Zevlor may not be noble but I'm sure he's learned a thing or two as a commander having to make Appearances. Dancing with Wyll. A quiet, secret look across a room full of patriars while they ditch together.

HNNG. I gotta write something for them so bad.

[theartoftheprompt]

Live long and prosper!